All the Little Things by Sarah Lawton (the best books to read txt) 📕

over the waves. These ones are of the girl passing through the veil to his Fae world. There are loads and loads of paintings of creepy trees which I really like; I might ask if I can have one of these for my room. I keep making piles until I come to one that makes me freeze.

What the fuck? What the actual fuck? That’s Alex. With wings.

Rachel

The day before we went to Dorset, Vivian came running in from school like she was being chased. She bombed into the house without even pausing to speak to me, running right past my seat on the sofa where I had tucked myself with a book, trying vainly to read to distract myself.

I went up to Vivian’s room to speak to her, to ask her why she had run in like the hounds of hell were after her. She was lying on her bed on her phone, tapping away, an intent, bristling look on her face.

‘What on earth is wrong with you?’

She looked up and a blanket came down over her expression, smoothing away the fierce, pointed glare and replacing it with a stiff, calm mask. She looked straight at me. It was so rare that she would look directly at me, into my eyes. Usually hers would slide away, look to one side. I was almost chilled by the intensity in them.

‘Nothing.’

I didn’t believe her, but I didn’t know how to press it without risking that look reappearing on her face. I stood there, voiceless.

‘What?’ she glanced up again, jaw tight.

‘Do you know where Molly is?’

‘No. Can you go now, please? I’m busy.’ Eyes firmly back on the screen in her hands. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep the infuriated scream inside me, breathed out slowly. ‘Darling, can you please get your packing done tonight so we can go straight to Dorset when you finish school tomorrow afternoon?’

She ignored me.

‘Vivian! Are you listening to me?’

Her grey eyes flicked up to me for a scornful second before returning to her phone. She made one of her noncommittal grunts which I took to mean she had heard me. I decided that if there was no sign of any packing in the morning then I would pack for her, and she would not be impressed with what I chose. I was sick of her. I had spent the whole morning frantic with worry over how she was coping without Molly, and she was behaving like a shit. I was still sick over what I had done to Alex and I just didn’t have the headspace to deal with a moody Vivian too.

I was walking past the phone in the hall when it rang, almost giving me a heart attack.

‘Hello?’

‘Rachel? It’s Abi. Has Molly been in touch with Vivian? We’ve had an email from her!’ Her voice was shaking.

‘Oh, Abi, thank god. Is she okay?’

‘It says she is. She says that she’s punishing us for never being here, but we aren’t away that much, Rachel, are we? I had no idea she felt this way, why wouldn’t she tell me?’

The hurt and bewilderment in her tone was palpable, and I thought about the uncommunicative grouch in the bedroom upstairs. What wasn’t she telling me? What secrets filled these girls, and stained their hidden lives?

‘Abi, don’t blame yourself. They’re at such a difficult age. Did she say where she was? Is she okay? Is she coming back?’

‘No, no, it didn’t really say anything, I’m just so relieved to hear from her. Vivian didn’t say anything on Tuesday. She came round to get one of her tops from Molly’s room.’

‘She didn’t tell me she’d been to see you. I’ll ask her if she’s heard from her and I’ll let you know, okay? I’ll text you. I’m so happy she’s got in touch, Abi. Speak soon.’

I carefully put the phone down, my head swimming with pure relief. It felt like wings unfolding inside me. I loved Molly almost as much as I loved Vivian, she was such a bright, shining girl. I can still remember the first time Vivian brought her home for tea after school. She had been so interested in everything, asked me a hundred questions about the cottage, the books, my pictures. Vivian had sat beside her, face glowing and enraptured with her clever new friend. I remember feeling a sharp dagger of concern – she was so like Lexie – but I had to give Vi the benefit of the doubt. All the therapists had told me that the accident had been just that – an accident. I couldn’t blame a nine-year-old for those actions. She had been tormented by the other children and, unable to process her emotions, she had snapped and lashed out. It was my fault for not listening, letting it get that far: not hers. History wasn’t repeating itself, and their friendship had seemed entirely normal. They’d been friends for years, and would be again I thought, once Molly came home. Again, I forced down the niggling doubts. Everything would be fine.

‘Vivian! Viv!’ I shouted up the stairs, transporting back to an utterly normal thing to be doing, a mother yelling to her teenager up the stairs. ‘Have you heard from Molly?’

‘Yeah.’

I barely heard the reply and stormed back up the stairs into her room. She was still on her phone, hair falling across her face.

‘I just asked you if you knew where she was and you said no! Did you not think to tell me that you had actually heard from her? Did you not think I was worried sick about where she is? Anything could happen to her, Vivian! Where the hell is she?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Vivian, still not looking at me. ‘The email just said sorry for being a dick and she’s not coming back.’

‘What? Why is she not coming back? Where is she?’

‘I just said. I. Don’t. Know.’

‘Do not speak to me like that, Vivian! I am not in the mood!’

I quickly texted Abi